


More Than Science Fiction

by 37bats



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Aliens, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/37bats/pseuds/37bats
Summary: Snake is an alien and Hal is a human. They work together





	More Than Science Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started out as a joke oviposition fic but then it got too expositiony and then I stopped writing before sex was had so just take 6k words of alien/human bonding. If you do want the weird kinky alien sex lemme know and I'll try to get on that.

The first time Hal met Snake was probably the most terrifying moment of his life. Scary enough to piss himself, yes, but being cornered by a cyborg alien wielding a sword when another alien crashes into the room to save Hal's sorry ass would be considered a valid reason to lose control of bodily functions by most. Probably. He's never really asked, not wanting to bring that particular detail up when recounting the tale to others.

 

Now, somehow, the two work together, gathering intel on and destroying any Metal Gears that either still exist or are currently being built. It's all a little baffling in Hal's mind, trying to connect the first meeting of Point A to Point X, whatever they have now. 

 

What they do have now is, in a word, confusing. At least to Hal it is. A scrawny human hunched over a laptop or two while a 7-foot-something alien that could probably snap him in two for looking at him wrong glanced at the screens over his shoulder, occasionally asking questions. Sometimes Snake placed a clawed hand on his shoulder and leaned in closer, squinting at the lines of code that moved past as quickly as Hal could type it out. Snake didn't seem to understand any of it- why would he, he's the action guy- but still tries to decipher it in his head, like looking at it long enough will unravel all the secrets of computer science. Then he pats Hal lightly once where his claw laid and steps back, not saying another word. Not knowing what to say.

 

When the smell of cigarette smoke starts to waft over, Hal only has to say, “Snake, window,” before he hears a small grumble and a few throaty clicks for good measure. Then the sound of rubber capped talons dragging across the floor followed by a window opening, as the far too large beast attempts to shove as much of his upper torso outside as he can. 

 

Hal had to convince him to wear the caps after they couldn't get the deposit back on their first apartment hideout, hardwood floors scratched up so that the varnished coating was overrun by numerous white scars. And while he looks silly with the green and blue caps meant for dogs covering the very ends of his claws, at least the floors are safe.

 

They tend to interact in very few words, but it never feels strained or anything. They don't  _ need _ to speak full sentences to get their points across. They've lived together for only a year now, but for some reason things just work. Hal would like to think maybe they have some sort of special connection, that he can understand the legendary soldier and Snake can understand him because they're both alone, but it might just be because of the small enclosed spaces they've been forced to live in together. Hal’s glad Philanthropy was created, not only to sate the overwhelming guilt he feels, but now he gets to actively work with someone who doesn't see him as a tool. He hasn't told Snake about the latter reason though. He'll continue keep it a secret. It feels selfish.

 

Hal looks away from the screen to Snake, who has a dull green shoulder and long neck sticking out of the tiny window. His face isn't visible from this angle, but the smoke drifting up and away is enough of a sign as to what his expression might be. Neutral, to anyone else. Contemplative to Hal.

 

Their current place is a cramped apartment complex, window facing a dirty brick wall. The little sunlight that shines from directly above is starting to fade, and Hal notices the time is 7:49. The summer is warm here, but it's ending soon, meaning they have to leave in two weeks. Two weeks to pack up and move again. Probably up north this time, Snake suggested. Hal wonders how much intel he can gather before then, if it would change where they'll have to go. 

 

Snake finishes his cig, forcefully pulling his way back inside. One of his shoulder plates catch on a loose paint chip and it falls to the floor. He stares at it for a moment, and cautiously glances over to Hal to see if he noticed. Of course, Hal had been looking the whole time, staring at Snake's back for five minutes now, he realized. They make eye contact, both unnaturally still, before Hal huffs out a small laugh and shakes his head. Snake grumbles again, seemingly annoyed, but the upturn of tiny sharp teeth say otherwise.

 

Over the months of close quarter living, Hal's picked up on a few of Snake's habits, his mannerisms, the little details that make the soldier a living thing. The heavy thump of his tail when the coffee machine takes too slow to fill up in the morning, the way his double eyelids blink slowly when he's concentrating, that his baring of teeth isn't always a sign of aggression. Snake isn't human, no, but he's alive, has a conscious thought pattern that drives his daily life and shapes the little ticks that make him just as human as Hal. 

 

Hal used to think that all aliens recruited as soldiers would have been mindless killing machines. Back in Shadow Moses, he never really interacted with anyone he didn't have to. And then he met Sniper Wolf. 

 

She was gorgeous, in a strange, inhuman way. She was an exception. The only one that was really different. Wolf had this kind look in her eyes that he'd never seen before from an alien. They'd only ever looked piercing and sharp before, thirsty for blood, but she was…

 

Then there was Snake. His gaze was terrifying, too, but not because of some underlying murderous intent. It was focus. An unwavering determination to finish the mission he was given. It wasn't the softness of Wolf's eyes, but it was different enough that he wasn't afraid anymore.

 

“Going for a jog,” Snake says, knocking Hal out of his reminiscing. “Don't zone out too much while I'm gone.”

 

Hal lets out a smart sounding noise of affirmation. He blinks a few times to try and swim out of his memories and get back to work. Diving in too deep to the past isn't going to find any Metal Gears.

 

Snake steps out the door, and the sound of it clicking shut is all he needed to move again. 

 

Over the next few minutes of alternating between typing and scrolling and typing again, Hal's mind wanders again. He thinks about how hard it is to find a city that has a decent population of aliens so that Snake doesn't stand out so much. He thinks about what the next city is going to be like, and if Snake can go jogging freely as he can now. He thinks about Snake being cooped up inside and getting antsy from a lack of action, and how on the opposite end of the spectrum, Hal himself doesn't mind the indoors so much. He thinks about Snake pacing back and forth anxiously, tail dragging on the floor and the clicks and growls he'll make in an attempt to stay sane. He thinks about Snake's eyes and how they'd be wild with movement. He thinks about Snake saying “fuck it” and trying to go out anyways, Hal stopping him at the very last second. He thinks about feeling bad enough that he develops stealth camo that would fit Snake and let him run as much as he pleased. 

 

Next thing he knows he's opening up the schematics and drawing up adjustments to make. He might be thinking about Snake too much today. Maybe he should get out more often, too.

  
  


Hal runs his fingers feather light over old scars while patching up wounds to make new ones. He's stopped the bleeding from the bullet wound in Snake's back, and now gauze covers numerous areas around his body. The contrast of bright sterile white against dull and dusty green makes Hal feel like he should squint or something. His hand wanders again.

 

It must have taken a lot to make all these dents and scratches in such sturdy scales. Bullets and knives would be the biggest contenders, based on Snake's history. Probably the only things that could hurt him. Hal can't imagine a young, fledgling Snake, falling from a too-high branch and scraping a knee. He'd just bounce right back up and be perfectly okay.

 

Meanwhile Hal has a bunch of embarrassing scars from the dumb, clumsy mistakes he's made over the years. A small indent in his elbow, from picking too much at a scab, a burn mark on his leg when he spilled boiling water on himself while making ramen. Stupid things. Nothing like the battle scars in front of him.

 

“Is there something else back there? I can't feel it,” Snake says, making Hal jolt his hand away. He keeps zoning out lately while staring at Snake, thinking about him, thinking about himself. About them, as a whole.

 

“No, no, you're fine, I just…” Hal doesn't know where he was planning on going with that sentence. Just hoping to come up with an excuse while talking. It didn't work.

 

Snake looks back at Hal for a moment, then shrugs and stands up. When he stretches his arms over his head, Hal reaches out to reprimand him for being so reckless literal seconds after being patched up. It was an action out of habit, reaching to tug at his shirt and make him sit back down, lay down, but Snake isn't wearing a shirt, so he just sort of splays his hand against his side. Deciding that to be too awkward, he slides his hand down to grip on Snake's pants instead but that is  _ way _ worse.

 

For the second time that night, Hal pulls his hand back towards himself, clutching it to his chest with his other hand. “You-” he attempts to say, voice straining from the lack of air he's hasn't been inhaling, “Don't. Do that.”

 

“That?” Snake looks down at Hal curiously, arms still raised above his head. He lowers them so that they rest losely at his sides. He hadn't stopped watching Hal through the entire sequence, and his eyes have this different quality to them. “Don't strain myself, right?” Snake repeats from memory. Hal nods. Snake nods back, slower. “Gotcha,” he says, then smirks, all lopsided and toothy.

 

Snake excuses himself to bed for the night, to Hal's relief. He should go to sleep too, not worry about his earlier fuck up. 

 

It's what he spends the rest of the night worrying it

about. But when his tired brain finally overworks itself to the point where he can drift off, the last thing he remembers thinking about is the texture of Snake's scales, and the heat that radiated under his palm. He'd thought snakes were cold blooded, but this one was an exception..

  
  


The winter is freezing this far up north. It's snowing heavily tonight, and the sudden storm has rendered the generator temporarily out of service. Hal can't continue work on his laptop without the risk of getting too heavily invested to notice the dying battery and subsequently losing all his data. Instead he's sitting in the living space, reading up on one of the few books not abandoned with each new move. Trying to, at least. It's one he's read a dozen times already, and his eyes are starting to wander from the pages.

 

The fire in the fireplace shoots up when Snake throws another log into it. Hal watches the extra burst of light catch on the icicles hanging from the roof outside.

 

Snake falls back onto the couch and sighs. He's just as bored as Hal is, if not more so. There really isn't much to do right now, for either of them.

 

They thought they were pretty lucky at first, finding such a nice cabin left abandoned in the woods to take over and make their own. It's spacious, definitely the largest place they've had so far, but it somehow feels more cramped here than anywhere else. Partially because they're trapped here tonight, and partially because it's become habit to organize all their things in a neat, compact manner. Now everything is piled in one corner, the rest of the space left unused and untreaded. 

 

The strangest thing is how the physical space between Hal and Snake hasn't changed, but with the extra room to move around in, they feel too close together, like they should keep themselves at a distance now that they can. But the space between the stuffed chair and the couch isn't even that small, about a yard between the two at least.

 

Snake has his arms draped over the back of the couch, and most of his tail tucked to the left of him, head turned towards the whited-out window. Which means he's facing away from Hal, and again Hal stares at the alien in front of him. The curve of scales on his head that streamline down his neck and the back that's covered by a heavy sweater. His antennae, emerging from the space above his eyes lay down his shoulders in relaxation, though one occasionally twitches when the fire crackles a bit too loud. He sees the complexity with which this creature was built upon, all the segmented limbs in a half exoskeleton, half fleshy scales, that contains organs that pump blood and oxygen and numerous other chemicals that may or may not be found in a human as well. It's incredible that a something so intricate and complicated, something that takes years to shape into what it is today can be just assigned such a simple name like “David”.

 

Kind of like REX.

 

“Snow’s stopped, I think,” Snake says, after about an hour of silence and boredom. Hal looks out the window too, sees that it has lightened up considerably, till there isn't much other than pitch black outside. The icicles still hang and glisten faintly. “Gonna go try and restart the generator”

 

“If you need any help feel free to ask,” Hal offers as Snake throws on a coat and heavy claw covers. He grunts in response, before the door whips open from the force of the still strong winds, and slams shut heavily. 

 

For a few minutes, the only thing Hal hears is the fire, the rushing wind, and the pages of his book being rubbed together between his fingers. Then, suddenly, the lamp to his side flickers on, and from the other room where Hal keeps his equipment, the hum of electricity.

 

Snake bursts through the door again, more carefully this time with the knowledge of the wind still raging strong. He stamps his feet, caked in snow, all of him caked in snow, and hangs his coat back up again. 

 

Hal can start working again, sure, but the laziness of the night has started to overtake his body. He yawns and decides to finally put down the book on the coffee table, not bothering to bookmark the page he was on. Snake falls back onto the couch, but this time sits a little straighter. “Do you think…” he starts, then clears his throat.

 

“Yeah?” Hal asks hoping to coax a little more out.

 

“We got the power back on and uh,” he pauses again, and lets out a small throaty click, “there's nothing to do.”

 

“Mhm,” Hal agrees patiently. It's not every day Snake tries to suggest some kind of recreational activity, especially not what Hal thinks might be for the both of them. 

 

“You could. Bring out your computer. And we could watch something,” Snake says, feigning a gruff casualness. 

 

Hal grins, already standing up to go grab his laptop and external hard drive. “Of course!” Hal calls from the other room, digging through his still packed boxes. He hasn't really had the urge lately to re-watch any of the stuff he has downloaded, but now is as good of an excuse as any. When he comes back out Snake is slouching again, arms crossed. Hal takes a seat beside him, placing the computer in front of them, right next to where Snake has his talons kicked up on the table. He gives off quick summaries of each series he rolls over with his cursor, gauging Snake's reaction as he goes down the list. There isn't much interest given off, some descriptions just making him squint in confusion.

 

“Hmm, just choose what you think is best,” Snake says and Hal nods in agreement. He opens up a folder, selects the first episode, and hits full screen. After a moment of consideration, puts his feet up on the table as well, mirroring Snake's position. 

 

Hal never got to find out what Snake thought of it that night. He himself was invested almost immediately, not taking his eyes off the screen until he drifted off from the familiarity of the theme song and voice acting.

 

The next morning he woke up tucked into a heavy blanket on the couch, glasses off, and laptop closed. The light of an overcast sun is shining bright through the window, through the icicles. Trying to emerge from the cocoon he's seemed to have trapped himself in is a struggle. Then he remembers last night and curses Snake for wrapping him up so tightly. It was a nice gesture, at least.

 

He opens up his laptop to check the time because it's the closest thing to him right now. 12:19 in the afternoon. Not great, not terrible. Then the date catches his eye, and it's familiar but it takes a moment for his foggy mind to catch up to the memory. 

 

Right. It's been a year and a day since Philanthropy was created. Not the kind of anniversary Hal would have expected, but for them, it worked.

  
  


If there's one thing Hal is really, really tired of, it's being oblivious to his own feelings until the realization hits him like a truck and he's left frozen where he stands. Or sits, rather, in this moment. His hands are hovered above the keyboard, and he thinks he's still pressing down on the “e” key, because it keeps repeating on the screen in front of him.

 

They were moving again, in a beat up old truck Snake grabbed because it was cheap and a good model back in its heyday. The fixing up took time, but now it runs just as good as it used to. According to Snake, at least. To Hal it feels like if they hit a pothole wrong it'll collapse into pieces, but they still ride in it. Right now it's all they have.

 

Hal had been working on his laptop for the past half hour or so, after a sudden spark of inspiration hit him. Firewalls mean nothing to a bored man like Hal.

 

Snake parked at the far end of a rest stop on the side of the road, and said he's going to get more cigarettes. Hal nodded, not really knowing what he's nodding for, just hearing Snake's voice and that whatever he's saying isn't super important. Then the door shut loudly, and Hal again was worried that too much force on the truck is going to dismantle it. He meant to scold Snake for being too rough, but he'd already started walking away towards wherever he was going.

 

Hal frowned and rolled down the window, the chilly spring air hit him in the face as he called out to Snake, “Watch it! You're gonna break the car and we'll be stuck here!”

 

Snake turned back and beared his fangs in a grin, not stopping. Then he ducked into the rest stop, out of sight. Hal sighed, exasperated, and continued to type, taking note of the battery percentage. He'd have to ask Snake to tell him to stop soon. Don't want to risk losing any of this. Snake looked really cute smiling like that.

 

The sudden thought jarred him, and here he is, having a crisis as the six lines of “e”s become seven, and eight, and nine, and the car door opens again. “Is that some kind of new coding technique?” Snake asks, half joking, half genuine question.

 

Hal tries to clear his mind by selecting all ten unneeded lines and deleting them. “Got distracted,” he mutters, and closes the laptop. As he leans back to put the computer behind him, something lands in his lap.

 

“Thought you might be hungry,” Snake says while turning the keys in the ignition. Hal looks back onto his lap and sees a cheap, off brand protein bar. It claims to have almonds in it, at least. Leave it to Snake to get the most MRE-like foods available. Not that Hal is any better really, only ever really getting pre-packaged or microwavable meals. Somehow it's a healthy enough diet.

 

The next hour of driving is uneventful, as it usually is. They're on the outskirts of a small town, and all that surrounds them are trees, trees, and more trees, densely packed up and down the hillsides that surround the road. Hal has his chin held up on his hand but the occasional bumps in the road are probably starting to cause damage to his teeth, so he just rests his shoulder against the door, drifting off.

 

The tires screech and he's thrown forward and out of his tired state. “Fuck!” Snake hisses, and Hal has to readjust his glasses to see what stopped them. His hands shake slightly from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

 

Snake's already getting out of the car, and cautiously approaching the side of the road where a cowering dog lays. He clicks at it softly, kneeling to make himself smaller and less intimidating. 

 

Without taking his eyes off the poor dog, his tail sneaks back into the truck and wraps around a packet of beef jerky he stuck in the cup holder. Its ribs are showing through the patchy and rough fur. No doubt that food is going to be the thing that tempts it over. 

 

Wait. There's no room in the car. What exactly is Snake planning on doing here?

 

Hal ends up with a large, very affectionate dog in his lap for the rest of the day. She keeps licking his face every few minutes and he really can't do anything but just accept the grateful, jerky scented kisses. Snake is laughing when they stop at a motel for the night- only staying for the dogs sake- at the disheveled appearance of his partner. He probably looks worse off than the dog at this point.

 

The cranky motel manager takes one look at the sad mutt and says, “We don't allow pets to stay here. Leave it in the car.” Snake glares and his grip on the makeshift leash he's made from rope tightens, but then he gets a different kind of look. One that makes the hairs on Hal's neck stand up. He has a bad idea, and again Hal has to sit back and watch as everything just sort of happens around him. 

 

“I'll go put her back in the car, you get the key to the room,” Snake says. 

 

About ten minutes later, Snake climbs in through their room's window, dog carefully tucked into his tail. Hal only heard it all happening, face buried in his hands in embarrassment. He really wishes the alien wasn't as good at stealth as he was. 

 

The dog, or Good Girl as Snake has taken to calling her, is quiet and obedient, if not easily excitable. She whines a lot when not being pet, but between the two of them in the room, it was very easy for her to get what she wanted. 

 

Snake goes out to buy dog kibble among other supplies for Good Girl, and in the not so empty room, Hal thinks more on what happened earlier. The reaction to the smile. How he thought it was cute. That's not too weird right, thinking your business partner/friend had a cute smile? Even if said business partner/friend is a giant, scary alien with an overall intimidating demeanor? 

 

Hal decides that Snake is cute in the same way Good Girl is cute; a little rough around the edges, but very sweet once you get to know them. 

 

Good Girl whines and places her head in his lap, looking like quite the pity party. He scratches behind her ears and her tongue lolls out immediately, content with her new situation, much better than just a few hours ago. She looks like a mixed breed, but Hal's not familiar enough with dogs to be able to pinpoint any one of them by appearance alone. Snake would probably know, if the fifty-odd huskies he's apparently owned are any sign of his attachment to dogs. 

 

“We're gonna end up keeping you, huh girl?” He says, rubbing Good Girl's face, “You gonna be a part of our team? Think you can sniff out a Metal Gear for us?” 

 

Good Girl's smushed and happy face looks blissfully unaware of the questions Hal is asking. How cute. He forgives her for crushing him earlier.

 

Snake comes back with food that Good Girl wolfs down quickly, and she becomes even more peppy with actual energy to spare. She runs from one end of the room to the other and back, tail wagging forcefully and smacking everything in its path. “Think the guy'll be mad if we give her a bath in here?” Snake grins, Hal laughs.

 

Turns out Snake was being serious about the bath, when he pulled out a bottle of dog shampoo. The night ends with all three of them soaked, since Good Girl wasn't the most co-operative during the procedure, moving around and splashing water everywhere. By the time she was all rinsed off, the bathroom looked like it'd been through a flood.

 

Now Good Girl looks like a brand new pup, sans the missing patches of fur. She now sleeps at the foot of Snake's bed, curled up peacefully. Snake is curled up too, legs pulled up to his chest to make room for her on the small mattress. It's amazing how much Snake can shrink, make himself take up only a fraction of the space he normally does. A stealth thing, most likely. Pretty cute how he went all out for a stray dog, though.

 

There's that thought again, that word. Cute. It doesn't feel as weird, or as startling as it did, now. Now that it's completely justified in Hal's head, calling Snake cute is just a normal thing. It's so normal that he would totally say it to Snake's face if that wouldn't draw a negative reaction from the alien. 

 

Good Girl lets out a snore, and it reminds Hal to get to sleep soon. Have to wake up early to continue on with their move.

  
  


Snake brings out bottles of alcohol one night, completely unprompted, and invites Hal to drink with him. Of course, Hal has no reason to turn down the invitation, putting in some good hours on intel gathering to where they're in a good spot for the week. Why not just have some random celebration on a Tuesday night? 

 

The difference in alcohol tolerance between the two of them becomes more apparent as the night goes on, as Snake continues to down glass after glass while seemingly unaffected. On the other hand, Hal is getting pretty tipsy after a beer and a shot of vodka. He's starting to wonder if Snake can even get drunk, after he polishes off an entire bottle of cheap whiskey.

 

Cookie- formerly known as Good Girl- is whining at their feet, as if she feels left out and wants to participate. Hal pats her on the head, and Snake stands up, calling her over to him. She jumps up and puts her paws on his thighs, though not for long as Snake lightly takes them into his claws. Hal grins when he realizes what Snake is doing, and that Snake might actually be drunk at this point.

 

They dance around the tiny living room to music that isn't playing, and Hal can't contain the giggles that bubble out of him. Soon though, Cookie squirms out of his grasp and back onto four legs like she's meant to be. Snake kneels in front of her, down to her level, as opposed to bringing her up to his, and pets her happily. Hal is gonna miss seeing this.

 

They agreed, reluctantly, that keeping Cookie around might put her in danger. Having few other contacts with their current situation, they asked Nastasha to care for Cookie. She readily accepted, to their surprise. Apparently she had always wanted a dog of her own. 

 

Hal knew she was fully capable, and happy to know Cookie would be in safe hands. But, still, he would miss her a lot.

 

Now Hal is starting to tear up, forgetting how much of an emotional drunk he was. He rubs at his eyes and sniffles, trying not to ruin the mood. Snake notices anyway.

 

“What, you wanna dance too, Otacon?” Snake asks with a crooked grin? Despite himself, Hal laughs and stands up a little wobbly.

 

“You know what? Sure,” he says, and the surprise on Snake's face is quickly claimed by a more genuine smile. He raises his arms, ready for Hal to take his place. 

 

It's difficult, doing their bastardized version if a waltz in a tiny living room as an excitable dog jumps at their legs, but they manage somehow. This isn't something that would ever happen while sober, but that's the point of getting drunk right? Lowering your inhibitions so that you can just go for it, whatever it may be.

 

Hal might even be at the point where he doesn’t deny his feelings. He'll admit it to himself, at least, how clumsily spinning around the room with Snake and laughing at every mismatched step is making him feel pretty damn warm inside. Makes him wish that this was every day and Metal Gear wasn't a thing the two had to worry about. Maybe they could keep Cookie because she wouldn't be in almost constant danger. But Metal Gear still exists, is still a real danger that they have to worry about, and that it is technically Hal's fault that he has to do all this. Now he's tearing up again. 

 

Snake stops, but Hal doesn't react fast enough and throws himself off in some direction. Sharp talons grip tighter as they pull Hal back up and steady him. “You okay?” Snake asks. Hal isn't sure if he's talking about the falling thing or the crying thing, so he mumbles a weird sort of half confirmation. “You sure?” He asks again, leaning to Hal's eye level. Now he's pretty sure it's about the crying thing.

 

“Just gonna miss Cookie is all,” he says with a sniff. 

 

“She's a good dog,” Snake grunts in agreement. 

 

Cookie leans her body against Hal's leg, her tail whipping against Snake's. Must have known they were talking about her. “Sit, girl,” Snake says, then says a few more times before she finally gets it. They're still training her. Hal sits in the floor next to her, crossing his legs, and Snake joins him. 

 

“Sorry for killing the mood,” Hal mutters.

 

“Mood?”

 

“The. The dancing thing. It was fun,” he says, “but I kind of ruined it, huh?”

 

“It was fun, yeah.”

 

“Yeah so. Sorry.”

 

“Okay.” Snake is entirely distracted by Cookie, scratching her now faceup belly and watching her kick her hind leg. Hal sighs, and joins in by rubbing her chest. If you can't beat them, he thinks.

 

“I'm sad she's leaving too,” Snake says, eyes still on Cookie. She remains unaware of her fate, just happy to be alive and in the presence of two people who feed her and give her attention. “It's not easy leaving behind an animal you get attached to. They're special, and you learn about that in even a short amount of time. Dogs have this way about them- man's best friend- where they connect with you as quickly as you connect with them.”

 

“We'll see her again, though, right?” Hal is getting pretty emotional now. Maybe because all of Snake's monologues so far have followed some not so happy events in Hal's life. Snake nods, and Hal nods resolutely as well. Determined. Ready for the coming dogless days. 

 

They're both drunk, and part of Hal's brain says it's the alcohol talking, but this unspoken pact feels like it runs deeper than just Cookie. Did they just have a serious bonding moment? That's what happened here, Hal thinks. 

 

It's no longer cold outside, but Hal wants to lean against Snake regardless, and feel his body heat.

  
  


“This should be a simple enough mission for us,” Hal briefed. “Go in undetected, grab the data from the main computer located in Room 2-D, off of Hall D, and get outta there.” He's already gone over the map layout, guard positions, security cameras. Every detail necessary to allow smooth entry and exit in no time at all.

“You say 'us’ like you're here with me,” Snake says.

“I am! In spirit! Besides, you need someone who can watch over you from all angles and make sure you don't get caught or trip any wires. Anyways, mission starts at 2300 hours, when their security is at its lightest. Your entry point is at Hall B, when the guard shift commences, through the external air vents. Travel down Hall B, make a right down Hall C, and make another right into Hall D. The rooms are labeled, shouldn't be too hard to find 2-D. Get to the main computer, plug in that flashdrive I gave you, wait till the files finish downloading- I mean it,  _ wait _ this time-”

“I had three guards shooting at me, the hell did you want me to do?”

Hal sighs, “Okay, fine, but seriously, once its done you can get out of there the same way you got in, and we'll be done. Got all that?”

“ _ I'll _ be done. And yeah, like you said: simple,” Snake says, repositioning himself on the tree branch he's perched on. He's high enough up that Hal doesn't need to monitor the guards right now, eyes on the whole scene below him. Ten minutes till mission start. They have time.

“So what do you wanna eat once you get back?” Hal asks.

“Huh? Oh,” Snake relaxes his shoulders slightly, “Something with a lot of meat, probably.”

“That's vague. C'mon, at least give me an animal, I can work from there,” Hal offers.

“Otacon are you… going to cook something?” Snake asks. He's frowning. Actually, it's more like sneering.

Hal would feel a little more offended if all his other attempts at cooking didn't go up in smoke. Literally. “Oh don't be dramatic! I'll even follow a recipe this time!” 

Snake slumps against the trunk of the tree tail curling around the branch to keep steady. “Pork,” he sighs, “You better be serious about the recipe thing. And don't look up something weird and complicated. Keep it simple.”

“Simple,” Hal promises, “That's the theme for tonight, huh?”

Snake chuckles, and checks the time. Two minutes. He starts making his descent. “Yeah. Let's hope the other one is success.”

“Here's hoping.”

Mission: Start.

  
  


To say things could have gone better would be an understatement. They could have also gone worse sure but… it's best to not dwell on that outcome. Snake is alive. Sure he's half drowned and looks like he's been hit by a truck, but he's alive. That's all that matters. RAY had slipped from their grasps in a way that was entirely unpredictable, but Snake is alive. God Hal is so thankful that he's alive.

The few moments of uncertainty between the Tanker going under and Snake emerging from the water were some of the worst seconds of Hal's life. He could have cried when that codec call came through.

Now he's patching up Snake. Trying to, at least. Some of his exoskeleton is smashed inward in a way that's making his stomach turn just looking at it. Just imagining that happening to a human bone is unpleasant enough. The amount of pain Snake is in must be indescribable. It doesn't show, though, not on his face. Sometimes he tenses up when Hal touches something too hard, let's out a grunt and heavy breath, but his face remains steady. Focused.

Hal can't help but feel the same way. Tonight was awful, to where words can't describe. He keeps feeling flashes of intense emotions. Rage that RAY is in the hands of Ocelot- Liquid? Sadness over Snake's current condition. Back to rage. Cycling between the two is tiring him out, but there's still work to do. Bones to splint. 

Snake's stopped bleeding, and he looks about ready to pass out. Hal's surprised he hasn't arrived this point. There's pools and splashes of dark green fluid surrounding them. Hal is exhausted, too, just wants to curl up in bed and sleep for however long his body would allow. 

He leans himself against Snake's back, against a clean area, and stays there. Just for a moment. Wants to rest his eyes and focus on the harrowed breathing of the beast in front of him, ignore how tacky his green tinted hands are becoming. Snake leans back against Hal. They're balancing each other out, weights pressing heavy, but comforting. Maybe it shouldn't be, given the circumstances, but it is. Hal wraps his arms lightly around Snake's waist, careful of all the injured spots. He knows where they are without looking, their positions burned it his mind already. Snake places one clawed hand over Hals’, and breathes. 

They don't say anything.

  
  



End file.
